Skin in the Game
by DeniseV
Summary: Ezra saves the life of another Travis, which results in injury, of course, and leads to an effort spearheaded by the gambler to get another of The Seven to recognize what is right in front of him ... with a little help from some of his other friends.


"Jesus, Ezra, what the hell happened?" Vin asked as he walked over to the man laying on the bed. The town healer, and one of the men, along with Vin Tanner and Ezra Standish, who comprised the now infamous Magnificent Seven, was checking over the terrible bruising on the lower right side of the man's chest. Vin had just returned from a few days out at the reservation. The black man working studiously at Ezra's side had also just returned from a journey. Nathan Jackson's trip to Santa Fe had been an eye-opener, an opportunity to spend time alongside a real doctor, assisting the physician in treating his patients for a week. It was a chance that the former slave could not pass up, and one he had been afforded more frequently as their small town of Four Corners became more than the dusty village often bypassed in the past; as it transformed into a stop of significance for more and more people working their way across the vast western expanse.

"Ah am … ah-ah … ow! Mistah Jackson! Ah fear if you press much harder you will perforate mah person."

"Ezra, why'd you let this go so long?" Nathan asked.

"What would you have had me do? You were not heah."

"Did you ride patrol like this?" Vin asked with a frown, firstly at the thought that Ezra would feel obliged, as he would say, to take his turn minding the town – either on foot or on horseback – with such an injury. The Texan winced. That had to hurt. And his second thought? How wise was it for Ezra to keep this injury from their leader, which he had to have done as the former gunslinger who led this band of peacekeepers hadn't been anywhere but in town while they were down two of their number for the past few days.

"Gentlemen … " the card sharp started. He was interrupted by someone answering Vin's question, the reply coming from a man slow to anger, but angry he was nonetheless as he made his presence known while he towered in the doorway.

"Of course he did." Buck Wilmington ambled up closer, grimaced at the deep burgundy color of the large, meandering bruise and said, "You told me you didn't get hurt, Ace. That looks like it hurts to me."

"Actually … " Ezra started again, but Nathan cut him off.

"How did this happen?" the healer asked.

"Well … " the gambler tried once more.

"He was just tryin' to keep Billy Travis from hurting himself," J.D. Dunne said as he pushed Buck to the side with a playful shove. "Ouch," he said as he got a good look. "Geez, Ezra, you shoulda said something. I'd've taken your patrol."

"Mistah Dunne … "

"Mary know 'bout this?" Vin asked.

"Not … " Ezra tried once more to get more than a word or two out, but was stopped in his tracks – again - this time by Josiah Sanchez, whose presence now truly made the room feel claustrophobic to one and all, even if the proof hadn't already been positive of that result by Vin's sudden, subtle twitching.

"Mrs. Travis ain't the one to worry about. Just seen Chris stormin' this way," the former preacher warned.

"Good lord!" Ezra exclaimed. He tried to sit up, but a sharp stab of pain from his injury stopped him short, even if Vin, Buck and Nathan's hands all over him hadn't kept him in place.

"Just take it easy, Ez. You ain't goin' nowhere," Nathan said.

"Except for maybe an early grave," the southerner countered under his breath, but loud enough for all to hear. It was a little disconcerting, though, how much breath he needed to take to get the sentence out, though he was happy to finally get a complete thought out amidst the interruptions of his friends.

"You might be wishin' for that once Chris finishes with ya," Buck said, more concern than anger now in the handsome face. "Why'd you let me tell him you were okay?"

"Mah apologies, Buck."

Buck leaned in and patted his friend's shoulder. "Don't worry, we won't let 'im kill ya," he said with a smile.

"Too kind," Ezra parried. Huh, that was harder to get out than it should have been as well.

"All right, enough of that," Nathan said as he heard the faint struggle Ezra seemed to be experiencing. "Who knows what happened?"

"I do," was voiced by Buck, J.D. and Ezra."

"You don't count," Nathan said to his patient.

"Why … " Ezra was only able to start the challenge , but Nathan stopped him from wasting his breath, which on quick contemplation, seemed less of a slight and more of a good idea.

"You will do anything, _anything_, to get out of here; better that I hear this from J.D."

"J.D.? What about me?" Buck asked in a decidedly put-upon tone.

"Was there a pretty girl around?" Vin asked.

Buck's eyes glazed over. He sighed before he said, "Eyes clear blue like the oceans ya see in pictures of deserted islands. Hair soft as silk, the color of shimmering wheat on a cool autumn morning."

"I rest my case," Nathan said with a knowing smirk. "Vin, Josiah, Buck … shoo. J.D., tell me what happened." As boots of three men beat a retreat from the clinic over the sound of one 'See ya, Ez' and another 'Feel better, brother', all of these echoing sounds were replaced by the familiar jangle of spurs.

"Lookin' forward to hearing this for myself," Chris Larabee said as he shut the door behind the three departing lawmen.

"Ah fail to … grasp why this … has caused such … commotion. Ah stopped … Master Travis from … fallin' from his horse, and … in doin' so, received … for mah trouble … what is … " Ezra stopped to address Nathan now, " … most likely a simple cracked rib."

"Ain't nothin' simple about that, and I'll be the judge on that, anyway." The healer turned to J.D. "Is what he said true?"

J.D. looked to Ezra. What the con man had said was all true, except for the important details that he seemed to purposefully leave out. Ezra stared hard at the youngest member of their law enforcement team, but it was clear that his silent powers of persuasion were but a candle down to the end of its wick in comparison to the effect Chris' fierce, explosive glare from behind was having on J.D.

Ezra Standish held no winning hand this time, save for the royal flush he'd been given the day he met his six companions nearly three years before. Chris, for his part, read something into what J.D. said that made him see red.

"You let Billy ride Chaucer?" Chris demanded as he stepped closer to the prone gambler. Ezra steeled himself for a full-out Chris Larabee onslaught, but his body was in no shape for such of a thing, his muscles tensing for whatever it was he thought he needed to protect against causing him more pain than he'd felt since suffering the original injury. Nathan noticed the reaction.

"Not now," he directed to their leader. "Relax, Ezra."

"Ah … will … " he started, pausing momentarily to breathe through the pain, "but first … Ah must take … umbrage … with the suggestion … that Ah would … allow a precocious … novice on a horse … to ride mah … fine steed."

"Billy ain't a novice. And you're more concerned with your property than for a young boy's life?" the former gunslinger challenged.

"Chris!" Nathan bellowed. The fact was that whatever happened, Ezra was now struggling to breathe, and Chris seemed to have nothing but taunting and menacing on his mind. Nathan wondered if maybe the man had been drinking, so blind was he to the fact that Ezra was deteriorating before their eyes, let alone the fact that the genteel southerner would never behave the way Chris had just described. And the jibe at Chaucer being just property? He had to know that such a comment would set Ezra off, which it did.

"Mistah … Larabee. Ah … admit … that … Ah hold … Chaucer … in high … regard." Nathan stopped the staring match with Chris and listened more intently to what Ezra had to say. Or more precisely, how he was struggling to get it out.

"Ezra, you having trouble breathing?"

Ezra put his hand to his chest. "It … would … seem … so," the gambler answered, a furrow to his brow. "Good … lord. Ah … thought … it was … just … a bad … bruise."

"Stop," Chris ordered.

"No sir. Ah … did … nothin' … to … hurt … that … boy."

"I don't mean that. J.D.," Chris said, nodding his head toward the door. J.D. left Ezra with Chris and Nathan. "Ezra, I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't hurt any child or endanger kids in any way." The tall blond could see that Ezra was feeling poorly, and that his verbal attack on the man hadn't helped.

"Why … " both Ezra and Nathan started to ask. Why had Chris thought to go that route, assuming the worst, when no one had done that in a long time? Things had changed, quite dramatically, after the territorial governor's visit and Ezra almost leaving with the money the politician had used to try to get rid of his opponents, including Mary Travis. Ezra's heroism that day, his selfless act that saved Mary's life, showed his friends and the people of the town that Ezra Standish was a man who could be trusted. At the time the caveat was that he could be trusted save for allowing the man to have anything to do with money. But even in that way things had changed drastically. That the change was directly related to Ezra's own improved finances meant very little. He was now a man of means who people sought out for advice on matters financial … and otherwise.

"Ezra, can ya just let Nathan take care of ya and then we can talk." The con man started to reply. "I'll talk, you'll listen." Chris looked up to the healer. "Do you want me to send Josiah back in?"

"Looks like."

* * *

"Ah assure you it did not appeah to be somethin' of concern until well after mah second patrol."

"Well, it's a good thing you started showing symptoms, 'cause a collapsed lung, untreated, coulda killed you."

"Ah realize that, Nathan. Mah most profound gratitude," Ezra said. He was now into his fourth day in Nathan's clinic, and well on the way to a full recovery.

"You sound a lot better," J.D. offered. "Your breathing was pretty bad. Kind o' scary to see a friend struggle like that." The young man still seemed to wear that fear as a heavy cloak, it was obvious in his large, caring eyes. That expression still reminded all of the other seven of that time not long after they had all joined forces, under Judge Orin Travis' direction and Chris Larabee's leadership, when a bullet gone awry from the young easterner's gun killed Annie Neuhaus. It seemed the man who had come from the east just after his mother's death would never truly get over what he had done, but he had learned from it, and the citizens of the town knew it, as his comrades did.

"Ah apologize, J.D. Ah nevah intended … "

"He knows that, Ez," the healer assured his patient. He didn't see the point in Ezra wasting his breath, not when everyone knew what he meant, not when he still needed every breath he could get.

"J.D. told us what ya did," Vin said. "You know you saved Billy's life."

"No. Ah did the same thing any one of us would do."

"Don't know about that. But now you've saved two members of the Travis family," Chris said.

"You tryin' to get in the Judge's good graces?" Josiah asked.

"Are you inferring that Ah was not already there?" Ezra asked, his tone light-hearted. Knowing that he would survive had improved his spirits. There was little Ezra Standish disliked more than being incapacitated, or worse, at death's door.

"Yeah, yer his fav'rite, all right," Vin responded with a crooked grin.

"He may not be the Judge's favorite just yet, but you shot up Mary's list pretty darn quick," Buck chided.

"Please tell the good lady that it was nothing … " Ezra started.

Chris frowned, knowing that Mary had been up in the clinic helping quite a lot since Ezra had taken ill. He heard Buck answer before Ezra could finish what he was saying, "I ain't gonna tell 'er that. Any o' you boys gonna tell 'er?" Every one of them, even Chris, appeared to shudder at the thought.

"Ezra walks on water in her eyes right now," Josiah offered. He, too, was well aware of the frequency of Mary's visits to the clinic to help Nathan tend to the healing man. "She wouldn't hear any talk to the contrary."

"She said she'd be over with some stew in a little while," J.D. reminded everyone.

"Ya'll should get out, then," Nathan suggested. "I need to check that drainage incision before she gets here."

"Bet you must be hungry after only havin' beef broth these last couple of days." Ezra nodded his agreement at J.D.'s assumption, though to be honest, today was the first day he actually felt hungry since the day after he got hurt. Nathan had encouraged to the point of annoyance, and just short of forced him to take the broth these past two days.

Chris was the first to move to leave. "We still need to talk," he said, but then leaned over, patted Ezra on the shoulder and said warmly, "rest well, Ezra."

Ezra's brow furrowed slightly, but he seemed to have little time to think through what Chris said as his eyes blinked once, twice; it was obviously a struggle to keep them open. "Yesss," he slurred, barely getting the word out of his mouth before Nathan spoke up.

"Everybody out." Chris, Buck, Vin, Josiah and J.D. left. "You go ahead and take a nap while I … " Nathan stopped speaking as he saw Ezra breathing easily. He quickly finished his examination and nearly three quarters of an hour after his law enforcement brethren left, Mary Travis showed up with Ezra's midday meal.

"Afternoon, Missus Travis," the former slave greeted.

"Nathan," she said, though her eyes were focused on the patient. "How is he?" she whispered.

"Oh, he's fine. Jus' sleepin'."

"Is it still all right that he has some stew?"

"Sure it is. And he's lookin' forward to it, too."

"Well, that is good," Mary said with a hesitant smile. "I'll leave it here," she said as she placed the tray at the edge of a dresser.

Nathan frowned. Mary Travis had wanted to be here to help, but she always left before Ezra had a chance to wake.

But not this time.

"Missus Travis, I gotta go see Missus Lund. Her littlest has an ear ache. Could you stay with Ezra while he eats?"

"Oh." The newspaper woman looked from Nathan to Ezra and then back. She could only do one thing, and the former slave knew it. "Of course."

Nathan smiled. _'Good,'_ he thought to himself. He stepped over to the bed and sat on it, beside his patient. "Ezra," he said, his deep, familiar voice all that was needed to encourage the healing man to wakefulness.

"Mistah Jackson?" Ezra blinked in a lazy attempt to wake up, even though he was still ill enough and weak enough that he could easily fall back to sleep.

"Missus Travis has somethin' here for you to eat."

"Missus Travis," he said as he attempted to sit up. His gentlemanly instincts forced him to try harder, which only ended up sending stabbing pain up his chest. A barely uttered moan forced Nathan to stop him from moving on his own.

"Let me," the compassionate Negro said as he used his considerable strength – and gentle touch – to get the hurt lawman into a better position for his meal.

"How are you feeling, Ezra?" Mary asked as she moved the tray closer to the bed and placed it on Nathan's desk.

"Thank you," Ezra said to Nathan. His friend gave him an affectionate rub on his back and shoulder and then headed for the door. Before Ezra could question why he was leaving, Nathan was gone.

As he watched the door close, he heard, "Ezra?"

The con man turned to the publisher of the Clarion News. He shook his head, confused about his friend's sudden disappearance; he hadn't remembered waking to anything but the dark face with the worried, furrowed brow for some time. "Mah apologies," he said, remembering that she had asked him a question. "Ah am … bettah, Missus Travis."

"Ezra, I wish you would call me Mary." She looked down and then turned her big, aquamarine eyes on him. "We've talked about this before."

"Ah know, mah dear. It … Ah … well," he said as he nervously thumbed his bottom lip and then lowered his eyes to stare at his blanket, "it just does not come naturally to this old southern boy," he said as he looked back up at her.

"Well, first, you are in no way old," Mary said, her own nerves a jumble. She stepped over to fluff Ezra's already fluffed pillows. "And second, are you going to make me insist? Or beg?"

"Dear lady, I would nevah … "

"Ezra, I know. Just know that it is what I want." They averted their eyes from one another. Mary turned back first. "My stew is renowned, at least as far as Billy and the Judge are concerned."

"Ah b'lieve Ah recall young Master Travis sayin' somethin' to that effect," Ezra said with a wide smile. He wasn't sure what had happened that they were suddenly uncomfortable in each other's presence. It hadn't been that way for some time, not since Ezra had saved her from Stutz the younger.

"Ezra, I want to apologize, for running out of here, when you were starting to wake."

The gambler looked at her, somewhat surprised at the admission. "And for stayin' away when you knew Ah was cognizant?"

"I am sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Ah b'lieve that is highly improbable." Mary caught the healing man's eye, but quickly turned her head away. "Missus Travis," he pleaded, and then quickly corrected himself. "Mary, why don't you just tell me what is wrong?"

The pretty town leader sat for long moments with her head turned away from Ezra, no longer looking out the window, but with her head down, her hands clasped in her lap. She nodded once, as though she had come to a silent conclusion of what to say. She nodded her head once more, and then turned to find Ezra looking at her. He saw the moment her resolve crumbled, he saw it in an entire series of tells. The woman would have woeful luck in a game of poker. Ezra decided to give her more time to compose her thoughts.

"Ah hear tell of stew, but Ah have yet to see this famous delicacy. Shall we make a compact? Ah will partake of the delectable repast you have been so kind to prepare for me while you sort through your thoughts. Does that sound like a fair deal?"

Mary quickly accepted and stood to fetch the crock of soup. She set the tray over Ezra's lap, a fine old footed tray with fancy carving and inlaid wood veneers. Along with the stew on the tray was a slice of bread and a glass of milk.

"Will Mistah Dunne be joinin' us?" Ezra joked.

"No. That is for you, to help build your strength."

The southerner made a face. "Not mah libation of choice."

"No, I wouldn't think so, but I thought you would like something other than water. Nathan said no liquor or coffee."

"Yes, that does sound like our fine healer. Water or the swamp water he attempts to pass off as tea."

"Ezra, he's only doing what is best for you," Mary said in defense of the man the town was so lucky to have, a man who had all of the skills and much of the experience of any real doctor. It wasn't the first time she had defended Nathan; Ezra doubted it would be the last.

"Ah was just kidding, Ah assure you." He took a spoonful of the thick, savory soup. "That, Mary, is sublime." The woman smiled, and blushed slightly. "Ah can see why it is so famous." He could understand why Chris Larabee spent as much time these days with this woman. Intelligent. Beautiful. And she could cook, too. Chris had won the trifecta, if only he would recognize it.

Ezra ate and Mary sat quietly, mostly looking out the window. He watched her, in no way surreptitiously as the pretty woman was mired in deep thought. Before too long he had finished the delicious, hearty meal, but Mary Travis was far, far away and hadn't noticed.

"Dear lady," he said, but his companion took no notice that she had been spoken to. "Mary," he called louder. She jumped in her seat, another blush coming to her cheeks. "Ah must insist that you tell me what is vexin' you." Her eyes blinked rapidly, tears forming. Ezra shook his head. "Have Ah done somethin'? If Ah have, please forgive me, maybe it is this injury, mah bein' so … not mahself this last while. Ah apologize, Ah do not recall … "

"Oh, Ezra!" she said as she stood and turned away from the card sharp.

Ezra grew immediately concerned at how emotionally overwrought the woman appeared. This woman, whose qualities of beauty and strength he had admired when first they met some three years past; this reaction – from Mary Travis – was all wrong.

"Mary," he said as he raised the tray from his lap and set it along the edge of the bed. He placed his hands on the bed, preparing to push himself up … preparing himself for the pain the action was sure to cause. He did it, but couldn't help the gasp of pain that resulted. He gritted his teeth and forced his legs over the side. That resulted in a groan that finally captured Mary's attention.

"Ezra!" she called. The admonishment in her tone made the gambler feel more than his normal compassion for young Billy Travis … and, indeed, for Chris Larabee as well.

"Mary," he started as he breathed through the pain. His chest felt on fire, the rest of his body felt weak, even numb.

"Lay back," she said, helping him as he followed her direction. "What were you thinking?"

"Ah," he huffed, "was thinkin' 'bout what … " He stopped, sucked in a breath, carefully, as he understood the ramifications of aggravating his lung too soon, "whatever it was that has you so terribly upset." Ezra was struggling to breathe after the exertion of his last sentence.

"Stop talking," Mary warned.

"Splendid … suggestion," and not the first time he'd been given the directive this day. "Ah will, if … you will … enlighten me as to … what is wrong."

"Oh, Ezra. I'm the reason you're hurt. This is now two serious injuries you have endured because of me."

"Dear lady … Ah do not … blame you … "

"You should."

"Ah should not … Ah do not."

"Ezra, you stepped in front of me and took a bullet meant for me."

"Did you … fire the shot?"

"Well, of course not. But I did instigate … "

"Did you plan … the shooting?"

"Ezra, you are just being difficult about this. And I haven't told you about Billy. I … " she blinked back tears, but barreled on through. "I think he cannot stay here. I think we cannot stay here. I … I have to think of my son, and I cannot stay on top of him with my responsibilities."

Ezra understood what she was trying to say, that had she taken that action earlier, Ezra would not have had to get hurt trying to protect Billy. But what was truly concerning him was that she seemed to have made her decision, and there was little doubt that Chris Larabee was still in the dark on the choice that she had made. The man was a work in progress as he managed to get through most of his life these days without wallowing in despair over what he had lost. A lot of the gains that he'd made had to do with the evolving feelings the tall blond felt for Mary Travis and her son. There was little doubt that the severe reaction Chris had about the incident with Billy was because he cared so much for the boy. Ezra knew he could forgive Chris, just this once, for slipping into that old, comfortable pattern, the one that found Ezra guilty before being proven innocent. What worried Ezra was what would happen once Chris found _this_ out.

"Mary, there are many … heah, many people … in our small … metropolis … who would be … willin' to aid you. You … are very important … to the community … heah. Ah have … no doubt … that the people … of this village would … be more than willin' … to help you raise … your son. Please … do not make … a rash … decision." Shit. He had nothing left, but he knew he had to get it out now, because he simply hadn't the energy to put in the full-on effort that would be required, certainly he didn't have the stamina to sustain such an effort.

"Ezra," the pretty blonde said as she removed the tray and sat beside him. "You need to rest. We can talk later."

"Will we?"

The gambler sank into the pillow. To say he was drained was an understatement. He was so frustrated by this injury and the slow progress he had made. He knew that talking – and moving – as much as he had was a bad idea; Nathan would have his head once he returned. But Ezra was also frustrated that maybe he hadn't made the case for Mary to stay. And he was frustrated that Chris Larabee and Mary Travis, after three years, were still dancing around their feelings for one another. He knew one or two of his law enforcement brethren would say the same thing about he and Inez. There were some major differences between the two situations. One: there was a child to consider, a child who loved Chris like a father, a child that Chris could readily love as his own, if he would just allow himself to. Two: Mary was thinking of leaving town. But Ezra needed help making his case; he needed reinforcements.

And three: Ezra had needed to be sure that Buck didn't really have a more serious interest in Inez. He'd known for some time now that he didn't; even after Louisa Perkins, Buck hadn't changed in any serious way about his intentions for any woman. Ezra knew he had to start to figure out his relationship with Inez, but that would be for another day.

"Mary," he panted, making himself sound more out-of-breath than he was … it wasn't a hard act to manage. "Could … you … get … N … Nathan? Please?" he pleaded.

"Oh, Ezra. I am so sorry. I'll be right back." Her dress whooshed against furniture as she fled the room.

"Good … lord," Ezra said out loud, for no one but himself to hear. He closed his eyes, waiting for his heart to settle down, hoping that his lungs would stop burning with each breath he now took. He concentrated on breathing easier. He'd begun to feel lightheaded, and decided to relax as best he could, though not enough to allow himself to fall asleep; he was sure he could nod off at a moment's notice if circumstances weren't so dire. He heard the door open and close and struggled mightily to open his eyes.

"Ya'll right?"

"Mistah Tanner," he said softly. "What … "

"Saw Mary. She's gettin' Nate."

"Good." Ezra paused, took a long breath, then another, and then said, "Ah am happy … that you … are heah. We have … work to do."

"You ain't doin' no work anytime soon, Ezra. You don't sound too good. You sher yer all right?"

Ezra ignored the question for the second time. "Missus Travis … is plannin' … to leave … Four Corners."

Vin frowned. "She is? Why?"

"It doesn't … mattah. We … must convince … her otherwise."

"When you say we, you mean you and me?"

"And Mistah … Wilmin'ton … and whomever … else we can enlist."

"Ezra, you ain't in any kind o' shape ta be doin' much o' anything right now."

"Ah know," the injured man said dejectedly. "Ah hardly … have the … energy to take … mah next breath."

"Didn't Nathan say talkin' was gonna be hard, 'n' make you tired?"

"Good lord," Ezra said, but that was all he had time for before Nathan and Mary stepped back into the clinic. Vin stepped aside to allow Nathan in close to his patient, but Ezra grabbed the tracker's wrist and forced Vin to look into his eyes. The con man glanced toward Mary, and Vin knew exactly what his job was. He patted Ezra's hand and placed it back on the bed.

"Ezra, what did you do?" Nathan said as he started to check the man over.

"Mary?" Vin asked. "Let's give Nate 'n' Ezra some time."

She looked from Vin to Ezra. "Yes, of course," she said. She picked up the tray, which Vin quickly divested her of, and they headed out the door.

"Nathan," Ezra said breathily. "Ah am all right." His breathing was not yet back to normal; he lacked the necessary ammunition for any attempt at _that_ con.

"If that's so, why're you so out of breath? And your heart rate is up."

"Mary confided to me … some disturbin' news. Ah need … to set a plan … in motion."

Nathan stepped away from the man on the bed to work on something at his desk. "You tellin' me you faked distress to get me back here?"

"Ah assure you … Nathan," Ezra said as he rubbed at his chest, "there is … nothin' fake … regardin' how Ah feel."

"I thought I told you not to talk. Your lungs ain't up to it yet."

"Ah would not have … if it had not been … absolutely … required."

"Then maybe you should stop talkin' and start restin'," Nathan advised, only warm concern emanating from the worried healer.

"Ah will, but Ah require … your assistance. Ah b'lieve … Vin is seekin' the aid of Mistah … Wilmin'ton, but they will … need all of the luck … and help they can get. 'specially once Mary … realizes that Ah … broke her confidence."

"You can take a few minutes to calm yourself. And you _will_ be taking some tea and getting some rest."

"As you wish," Ezra agreed and closed his eyes, concentrating on calming down. He imagined himself doing the one thing that most relaxed him. Some might think that meant being at a table in a grand gaming hall, in the midst of a high stakes poker game, something whose location was like a second home, the action second nature to the man raised by a grifter and con artist such as Maude Standish. But what he chose to think of instead placed him in a far different location, some place right here in his adopted hometown: a stall surrounded by dusty and oft-times dung-infused straw. Grooming his fine steed relaxed him more than any other pursuit in life and brought obvious pleasure to Chaucer which, despite his ongoing lung troubles and the shiver it brought at how impossible breathing would be in that place right this minute, still brought a smile to his face as he imagined his horse luxuriating in the feel of the brush on his coat.

Ezra had no idea how much time went by before he felt Nathan's comforting touch waking him.

"Mah apologies, Mistah Jackson."

"Nah, that's what I wanted. Here, drink this." The healer lifted the recovering man's head up and steamrolled the moderately conscious man through the warm mug of medicinal tea.

"Ah will nevah understand why it must taste like … "

"Nevermind wasting your breath on that. Tell me about Mary before you fall back asleep."

"Ah would be remiss if Ah did not express mah deep appreciation for your … "

"Ezra?" Nathan interrupted.

"Yes, sir?"

"Mary?"

"Ah cannot even take a moment to thank … "

"No. If you do, you won't finish what you have to say."

"Wh … Why?" Ezra glared at his friend, realization finally dawning. "You double-dosed me!" he said, appalled.

"Had to."

"Have we not discussed this before?" the con man asked, followed by a huge yawn. The yawn made him angry, and forced his tongue to be more tart than he'd surely intended when he added, "You are an evil man."

"Spill it about Missus Travis."

"She's plannin' to leave our fair 'burg. She must be stopped," Ezra eked out before another yawn. He blinked his eyes lazily, eyes that were glazing over more with each passing second.

"She goes to visit the judge from time to time," Nathan noted, hoping that Ezra had misunderstood due to his recuperation from such a severe injury. He'd been more out of it than not … it was possible that he got the story wrong.

No, that didn't sound right at all.

"No," Ezra insisted. "She is movin' away." Ezra now kept his eyes closed, the effort of keeping them open far beyond his current capabilities.

"Oh," Nathan said. And as he stepped through the ramifications of such an action, he said with worried realization – and more appropriate emphasis, "_Oh_."

"Exac'ly," Ezra slurred as he fell into a drug-induced sleep.

"Hell," Nathan said. "Shoulda waited on that tea."

* * *

"Ezra said it will work."

"Ezra says a lot of things."

"Usually right."

"What's right?" Chris Larabee asked as he joined Vin and Buck outside of the jailhouse.

"Mrs. Potter heard something," Buck said.

"Something that concerns us?" Chris asked as he took the one remaining chair out on the boardwalk.

"Concerns you," Vin answered.

"Me?"

"Yup." Vin and Buck offered nothing further, though Buck was having a helluva time keeping the smirk from his handsome face.

Chris shook his head, raised his eyes to the sky, took a calming breath and said, "Either one of you gonna tell me what you heard that concerns me or do I have to guess?"

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you two things, old pard. First, it's about time you took serious what's right in front of you." Buck stopped, waiting for a reaction from his oldest friend. He didn't get anywhere near the reaction he was hoping for.

"And two?"

Buck frowned. "Hell, Chris, don't ya have nothin' to say about the first thing I said?"

"Not 'til I hear what else you have to say, Buck." Chris kept the familiar, steely glare on his friend.

"Well, if you ain't an ornery son-of-a-b … mornin' Miss Bernadette," the ladies man said, his moustache turning up as his roguish smile did the same.

"Buck," the pretty girl with the flaming red hair said as she walked by. The ladies man sighed, and then looked back to his two companions, who were both waiting patiently, arms crossed over their chests, wondering when the man would get his head back to the topic at hand.

"What?"

"I ain't never known a grown man with such a short span of attention," Vin said.

"One track mind," Chris added.

"Not jest 'is mind," Vin muttered, a slight flush coming to his face as he saw Buck's reaction to the buxom beauty.

Buck practically growled, "I know what we were talkin' about."

"I'm surprised you have enough blood flowin' to your brain for that," Chris said as his eyes moved from his friend's and then straight down to the man's crotch. Buck quickly crossed his legs, groaning slightly. Vin laughed.

"Anyhow, this ain't about me, it's about you."

"Not yet it ain't."

"You need me ta tell 'im?"

"I'll tell 'im, though I ain't too sure it's worth the effort."

"All the rest of us think yer wrong on that, Buck," Vin warned.

"Is one of you gonna tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

"Yeah, yeah. Look," Buck started, "you know that fella Norris, that Mary's been working with?"

"Yeah."

"You know he's a professor."

"Buck, you know Mary and Gloria and me and Ezra and a couple of others all worked to get him to help us find a teacher for the town."

"This is his fourth time back," Vin said. Chris looked at the tracker. The Texan didn't talk much, but when he did, it was usually something important. Chris would be damned if the man's point was obvious right now, but he was insinuating something.

"Yeah," Chris said again, not knowing yet where these two were headed.

"Chris, Mary's thinking of leaving with him," Buck finally said.

"The hell she is," the former gunslinger said, indignant. "She wouldn't do that."

"Yer wrong," Vin said softly.

"No, you two are wrong. She loves it here," Chris reasoned.

"Nobody's sayin' that she don't," Buck agreed softly, hoping to keep his friend from overreacting.

"She wouldn't leave. She's worked too hard to make something of this place, to build up the newspaper."

"She's worried."

Chris looked to Vin, waiting for the man to go on, but he was too anxious to hear the rest to wait for the information to come at Vin's deliberate pace.

"What about?"

"Billy. Ezra gettin' hurt because of him," Buck replied.

"She thinks she can't keep him safe with her attentions split 'tween the paper 'n' the town 'n' … " Vin paused, looking Chris firmly in the eye.

"And?"

"What are you, blind?" Buck demanded. "Don't you know that she cares for you? That she's spent near three years pining for you? No, she ain't obvious about it because she just ain't like that. Probably figured that a man who can see wouldn't need her example of fine womanhood shoved down his throat. So when a man, a refined man from the city starts lavishing her with attention, it's got to get harder and harder to ignore."

Chris looked from one friend to another. _What the hell were they talking about?_

"Norris ain't been payin' her attention."

Buck threw his hands in the air, stood up and leaned against the post, his back to his friend. Buck Wilmington wasn't like Vin, who could give Ezra a run for his money in the poker face sweepstakes. Ezra said Vin was inscrutable; the lean gunman figured it was about time he checked a dictionary for the definition. But Buck, right at this moment, had to turn away from Chris before he gave their hand away.

"That may be, Chris, but she's told people she's leavin'." That she'd only told Ezra so far was information that Chris did not need to know. "And she's tellin' 'em it's because of not bein' able to mind Billy proper, and she's tore up 'bout Ezra gettin' hurt this second time." Chris was prepared to argue, but Vin put both palms forward to calm his friend. "I know, it'weren't her fault Stutz shot Ez, but she still thinks if she'd done somethin' different … anyway, we just thought we'd tell you because you might have somethin' ta say, might have somethin' that could keep her from leavin'."

Buck turned around. "We all love Mary Travis, Chris. Nobody in this town wants her to go. We thought maybe you would hate it most of all if she left."

Chris and Buck stared one another down. They went back a long way, all the way to the beginning of the last true love story either of them had experienced. All of the Seven had heard at one time or another about how Chris had stolen Sarah from Buck, though knowing Buck they all figured the truth of the story was the truth that echoed from Chris Larabee every time in these last years that he had gone on a bender around his anniversary or the birthdays of his beloved Sarah and Adam. That Adam's recent birthday had passed without Chris passed out was all the proof his friends needed that he had turned a corner, and the time he and Mary and Billy spent together had to have been an important factor in that success.

But Chris didn't like this. Whatever this was. And whatever this was, it had Ezra Standish's name written all over it. Chris stood and walked away, no further discussion with his two friends. Vin and Buck could tell where he was headed, and they quickly ran to catch up.

"What're ya doin'?" Buck asked.

"Gotta talk to Ezra."

"Nathan … "

Chris stopped, and was knocked into on both sides by his concerned friends. "I just want to talk to him." Vin looked worriedly at their leader, Buck, too. "I gotta apologize to him 'cause of what happened before he, before we found out he was hurt."

"That can't wait? Nathan … "

"God damn it, Buck! I ain't gonna hurt him. I just want to talk to him." Chris looked back to the jail. "One of you needs to get back and keep an eye on Old Jake."

"He's still sleepin' it off," Buck said. Chris stared at his friend until Buck, finally, took the hint. "I'm goin'."

Chris looked at Vin. "I was headin' there next, mind if I keep ya company?"

"Suit yourself," Chris said as he strode to the clinic.

They walked in to Nathan's place and found the gambler sitting up in bed, though he appeared to be asleep. He had an abandoned game of solitaire on his lap.

"You need a break, Nate?" Chris asked quietly as he watched Ezra. He seemed to be breathing easily. The tall blond took the seat next to the bed.

"I could use a break," the healer said as he raised his eyebrow to Vin. The tracker shook his head and then cocked it toward the door.

"How's he doin'?" he asked. The question grabbed Chris' attention and he turned to hear the answer.

"Better. Lots, actually. I think he's past the worst of it. He overdid it earlier, but I think he learned his lesson."

"It is nevah too late to teach an old dog new tricks," Ezra said, his eyes still closed.

"Ezra, I'm gonna leave you with Chris and Vin for a while."

"Thank you for the warnin', Mistah Jackson." Nathan shook his head, smiled, and then left to get some supper. Ezra heard the door close and then asked, "Ah take it our intercession has been less than successful?"

"I knew it," Chris said.

"Chris don't believe it."

"Chris _doesn't_ believe what, that Missus Travis is plannin' to leave, or that Missus Travis is in love with him?"

"Either," Chris said at the same time Vin answered, "Both."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Ah can assure you, Chris, she is leavin'. And the entire town will know that you let her slip through your fingers. Is that what you want?" Now it was Ezra's turn for the stare-down from the much feared, but not by Ezra Standish, Chris Larabee. Chris looked away first, staring out the window. "Answer the question, Chris."

Chris stood from his chair, walked to the window, and then turned back. "What the hell do you care?" he asked the gambler. "What do any of you care?" he asked, looking this time to Vin.

"Chris … " Vin started.

"No. I know who is behind this. You answer my question, Ezra. What do you care?"

"Chris, you are not naïve nor are you blind. My interest in all of this is primarily to benefit myself, of course. Ah figure that the presence of Mary Travis in your life might, how shall I say, enhance your … let me put it as diplomatically as possible … enhance the lighter side of your personality."

"Ezra … " Vin started.

"No, Vin. Let him go on. It's kind of refreshing hearing him talk like this."

"Chris, he's jest tryin' ta git yer goat." Vin looked to Ezra with pleading eyes, but Ezra avoided getting caught by the big, sad eyes of the tracker. He had made a commitment to this town, to its citizens, to his friends. He had every right to press Chris on something that, true as he'd said, would benefit the gambler, would benefit them all. But mostly, it would be the right thing for the former gunslinger to do. Chris had been burnt very badly when he lost his family in that fire. And as Ezra had learned in life, burns stung for a long time, and took an equally long time to heal. But people, like skin that had been terribly hurt by a scorching flame, was remarkably resilient when dealt with properly. And sometimes, before a person even knew it, they were healed. Certainly Chris Larabee was healed … healed enough to move on with his life.

"Ah will concede that Ah believe you two would be a good match. And Ah have no doubt that what Ah want could be achieved by the beautiful, talented and dare Ah say, brave woman." Ezra had more to say, but he could feel the ache building in his chest. He certainly didn't want a recurrence of what had happened before. He stayed quiet … and damn Vin and Buck and Nathan for not being able to handle this without involving him. Ezra knew it was his idea, but shouldn't the fact that he had come up with the plan preclude him from being forced to execute the plan from his sickbed?

"Ezra, you are a son-of-a-bitch."

"That may be so, Chris. But tell me, why do you insist … on avoiding the true subject, why do you … deny your attraction to Missus Travis? And … if there is nothing between the two … of you, why are you here? Would it … not be easier to simply allow … her to leave with … Mistah Norris? It would … be no skin off … your nose, if you … will excuse the … dreadful but … apropos idiom."

"Ezra … " Vin started, frowning as the con man started to have trouble gaining a breath.

"No, Vin, let 'im continue. He seems to be an expert on the subject of what women want."

"Ah am not, b'lieve me. Ah … just … " Ezra took a careful breath and placed his hand on his chest. "Ah wish … simply … for two … people that … Ah have … grown … fond of … to … finally … see … the … light."

"I'm goin' ta get Nathan," Vin said as he hurried from the room.

"You all right, Ezra?" Chris asked.

"Ah would … laugh … if Ah … could. Do … you … care?" he asked, tossing the near-same question back at the former gunslinger that Chris had used when he'd originally entered the clinic this evening.

"Hell, Ezra, you know half the fun is seein' how far we can take it."

"Ah know. Ah admit … to not bein' … up to the … challenge."

"Then how about you concede that I won and just relax?" Chris suggested.

"Because … it is far too … important … that Ah win … this … particular … challenge." Ezra closed his eyes and rested back into the pillows. He hated to do it, to show weakness, to abdicate the advantage that he'd felt he'd built.

Chris nodded, walked back and took the seat beside Ezra once more. The gambler kept his eyes closed as Chris said, "What else did she say?"

Ezra took a careful breath and said, "Ah have told you all that Ah know." The con man groaned and then put his hand up to his head, but soon dropped it to his side. And of most concern to the former gunslinger, Ezra spoke no more.

"Ez?" he asked. Ezra slept, but he had a pained look on his face. Chris thought about what he'd been told, and realized that a choice needed to be made. His friends had chosen to stand by him, even been willing to draw his ire with their '_intercession'_, as Ezra called it. As Nathan came back in through the clinic door, Chris gave him an update on the gambler and departed without another word to Nathan or to Vin waiting outside.

* * *

"Ah have missed something, haven't Ah?"

"That's gonna happen when you sleep so much."

"Thank you, Doctor Wilmin'ton. Was our plan successful? Is Mary stayin'?"

"Yes, and yes."

"A good idea well executed. Much like a well-played con, there is no feelin' quite like it."

"Yeah, well, about that, Ezra. Chris, he, uh … well, he found out."

"Found out what?" Ezra said with a worried frown.

"That Norris wasn't really interested in Mary."

"Oh, well, that's fine. He had already suspected that."

"That may be, Ace, but when he went to talk to Mary about everything, he told her about how he hoped she would consider him instead of Norris."

"He what?"

"She screamed at him that she didn't need a man to make her life whole. That she had lived nearly four years without a man and that she would be able to live the rest of her life without one if they were … let me see, how'd she put it, 'As presumptuous and thick-skulled as Chris.' Took all o' Chris' negotiatin' skills to convince her that he didn't mean it the way she took it."

"Good heavens. Ah suppose Ah am a target of Mistah Larabee once more?" Ezra asked. He sighed and rested his head into the pillow.

"No, not really. Remember, Mary thinks you walk on water."

"Ah doubt that. I did break her confidence."

Buck smiled. "You saved her life and her son's life. You don't think that gives you a lifetime of forgiveness, then you don't know Mary Travis as well as you think you do. And don't think that Chris ain't grateful to ya, too, because he is."

"Ah was simply in the right place at the right time."

"You know that ain't true. You walked right in front of that gun. That was a brave thing you did. And Billy, you damn near killed yourself saving that boy." Ezra gave his friend an incredulous look. "You did. Next time Nate is here, ask him. He was real worried about you, especially this last relapse."

"Ah did not realize that conversation could be life threatening, other than in the political sense, of course."

"Well, if anyone was gonna find that out, it would be you," Buck joked. "Now, you're not supposed to talk too much still, and I know you want to get better, so I got this tea Nathan wants you to drink."

Ezra drank the potion, only barely keeping the vile stuff down. "Ah will nevah understand … "

"I know. Tastes like a boil gone bad on a bear's behind."

"How do you come up with such colorful sayings?"

"Oh, I been around, Hoss." Ezra laughed, yawned, and started to answer. "That's enough talk. You want to be well enough to go to the big party." Ezra's eyebrow rose over his left eye. "That's right, you need to rest and heal up good. We got an engagement party comin' up!"

The End.


End file.
